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Deemed to be too little, often dismissed yet he always wanted to be a delivery owl - to have a wizard of his very own and be useful. Unfortunately wizards usually choose the bigger and stronger owls, he never stood a chance.

Night was a time for owls to hunt and no wizards would visit their forest at this time … at least no wizard of good repute. A man flew in; he was atop a hippogriff. His robes tattered, his scraggy black hair uncombed, and he was as pale as a vampire. However, what piqued his interest was the letter on the man’s hand. He intends to ask for an owl to make a delivery.

The other owls eyed this wizard warily, yet the little owl can clearly see that this man was not as dangerous as he seems, for surely if the hippogriff allowed him to ride on it’s back, he would not be evil… The other owls hooted their word of caution as the little owl eagerly approached the man on the hippogriff.

The wizard raised his eyebrow as the little owl eagerly twittered about and tugged upon the letter. “So you want the job?”

The little owl bit the wizard’s finger in what he thought to be in an affectionate manner, for he would finally get his chance.

The wizard winced slightly as the overly enthusiastic owl bit him. He studied the little owl and smiled. He opened his letter and added a line on it and gave it to the small owl. “Harry Potter, Hogwarts Express.”

==================

The little owl hooted happily and gave his new master an affectionate bite; he yelped and becan to muttle low curses. ‘Pigwidgeon, he was named. Pigwidgeon he is from here forth.’

His heavy presence could be felt minutes before he entered the shrouded room; head held high, eyes glittering sharply. His physical health had not decreased with age -- he briskly walked up to the pantry, opening it harshly. He stopped for a moment, discerning between the many assorted bottles lined up carefully, before taking his pick.

He sat down warily on the couch, eyes restless. Darting them about, they settled briefly on the door before continuing their survey of the damp surroundings. Taking a swig from the flask, his hand rubbed his pocket conspicuously. The window rattled, making him flinch. His face was tight, his actions edgy.

The creature watched him with narrowed eyes, taking note of his every movements. Lazily switching his lion-like tail, it ambled away from its perch atop the cabinet. As light as a cat, nimbly leaping from it's hiding spot, it sauntered over to the pale man, eyes focused wholly on his face.

The man took no notice of the animal and continued jerking at every possible sound. Circling his object of interest amusingly, biding it's time before attacking, the beast twitched his long ears out of habit. The man was staring at nothing in particular, his eyes shadowed by his fear. The creature intended to scare him, and scare him thoroughly. The unsavory man deserved it.

It pounced dangerously, claws out, hissing and landed on the man's lap. The man gave out a yell, his eyes widening to impossible limits. Jumping to his feet, the animal slid to the floor.

Breathing hard, the man only stared wide-eyed as the kneazle flicked it's large tail side to side angrily. It leapt at the man's foot, claws ripping the cloak there to shreds.

"Get off me," the man cried, trying to banish the fiery brute from where it was attached. The kneazle only hissed louder, it's claws digging deeper. The man hopped, thinking fast. His lord couldn't see him like this.

As if on cue, Voldemort walked in, a disgusted look on his features. After a few moments of silence, he asked, his voice deathly still, "Rodolphus, what are you doing?"

She heard the crowd make a great deal of noise and looked down, only to notice a boy with black hair standing alone. She appraised him carefully, flailing her tail around in a warning.

He's only raised his arm and shouted something, she thought. I won't breathe fire, yet.

Then, a long stick came from somewhere distant. Another man was shouting as the boy climbed on the stick. She watched the boy ascend and fly far above her head. She turned her head skyward, immediately suspicious of the boy's intentions, to watch his every move. He dove and her maternal instincts told her he was after her eggs.

I'll show him to steal my eggs, she thought determinedly. So she opened her mouth and shot fire at him, but she missed as he pulled up.

The crowd made more noise as did the shouting man, but she didn't care, and neither did the boy since he flew back above her head.

He was flying in circles now as she watched. She opened her mouth once more to release more flames. The boy, however, swooped down, but she was ready and swung her tail up.

She heard more yells and screams as she felt one of the spikes catch on something. With some satisfaction, she knew her eggs were safe for now.

He flew above her head a third time, now moving from one side to the other.

What is that boy up to now? she wondered in exasperation, allowing her neck to stretch up toward him.

He moved a little higher as she brought her neck out as far as possible before roaring.

What do you want with me? she thought, shooting some more fire at him.

She spread out her large, black wings and came up off the ground a little. Then, the next thing she knew, the boy was gone.

Where is he? she thought angrily. Where did he go?

She heard the crowd make more noise than before and saw the boy flying over the mass of people. The men that had brought her from her home ran over to her, and then the world around her went black. When she woke up, she was back home.

Maybe it was only a dream, she thought.

She brought her tail around her and noticed something on one of the spikes. She lifted her tail up to eye level and saw it was a piece of a strange dark material. Like the boy had worn.

Title: Fred and George's New Pet
Word Count: 238
Warning(s): None

"Hey mum, look what we found!" Fred called as he ran into the kitchen.

George followed at his heels, carrying what appeared to be a hedgehog. Mrs. Weasley turned from the stove to look down on the eight-year-old twins.

"Can we keep it mum?" George pleaded. "Please?"

"I don't know," she began. She looked at the creature George was holding up, regarding it with some suspicion. "Do you know what it even is?"

"Sure we do, it's a hedgehog," Fred told her. "We even asked Charlie, and he said it was a hedgehog."

Their mother looked at the little animal in George's hands. Then glanced between Fred and George, both boys looking very hopeful.

"Take it outside and feed it something," Mrs. Weasley relented finally. "I must be crazy..."

Grinning widely the boys took their new pet, whom they promptly named Percy, and set him on the ground. Fred got a dish from the kitchen and put some orange peels on the plate. The little animal immediately went berserk. It began to rip up their mother's flowers in the garden. The boys ran after it, hollering.

"Percy, come back here!" Fred yelled.

"What's gotten into you, Percy?" George shouted.

"I'm right here, you two," Percy announced from the back door. "Mum asked me to check on you..."

Uric sat at his desk under bright lights humming along to the song coming for the lime green bird beside him. He reached over and plucked a feather out of the backside of the fwooper.

“Today is the day my darling!” He set up a parchment and quill to begin his letter. “They think you’re dangerous, and your voice has made me insane! Ha! You’ve only done my health good and I’m going to prove it to that ridiculous Ministry.”

He dipped the newly picked quill into the ink and scrawled a messy letter stating his experiment and the final product after three long months with his bird. He attached his hardly legible letter to the foot of a barn owl waiting on his widow.

“Come my pet, we’ll make some lunch for dinner.” Uric stumbled into the kitchen with his bird swaying on his shoulder.

***

After a few weeks of waiting for a reply, Uric awoke to find a handsome owl sitting on is bed side table waiting with its leg outstretched. He eagerly ripped open the letter and with a smile on his face he turned to the top of his headboard where his precious fwooper was resting, still singing her beautiful song.

“I have to go on an outing today! Unfortunately they refused to invite you along.” He sighed a heavy sigh. “Oh well, might as well leave now.” He jumped out of bed, not bothering to change what he was wearing, he grabbed his toupee, and before you could remind him of his shoes he had apparated out of his apartment and into the ministry.

As he walked through the Atrium he was greeted by the stares of people all around him, whispers, and pointing fingers.

They know of my success! Brilliant! He picked up his pace now reassured by those around him.

As he entered the meeting room, already filled with members of the Wizard Council, he was once again met with funny stares, though he now realized that they all had a shocked expression on their face. When he reached out to shake one of the member’s hands to say hello, she recoiled and ran for the door.

“I supposed you’d all like to see the results of my successful experiment?” Uric turned to face the audience, who had now changed their expressions to mild interest, some were even laughing.

“No, I believe we’ve seen quite enough thank you!” A stern man sat in the front row and was completely aghast to have such a man stand before him. The man stood as though to leave but nearly jumped after coming to eye level with Uric’s head.

“I say man! One thing to show up in the nude, all together another to wear a dead badger on one’s head!”

“Hundreds,” said the stranger with a grin. “Then those have hundreds more. Sell ‘em for a couple of sickles each, and you’re set, mate.”

Mundungus eyed the jar greedily. “How much for the lot?”

“Ten galleons.”

“That’s a galleon each! You just said I could ask a couple sickles. What kind of gormless prat d’ya think I am?” asked Mundungus hotly.

“Well, this is your initial investment. You’re paying for shipping and handling, mate. But if you’d like to try your hand at smuggling them all the way from Australia, be my guest.” The stranger made like he was going to leave.

“Fine, ‘ere you go, that’s ten galleons,” Mundungus said, grudgingly parting with the coins. But he knew there would be a good market for the Billywigs when he got back to Hogwarts, especially among the fifth and seventh years who would be desperate for something to take their minds off of their upcoming O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. It was the same each year, but Dung had never had an opportunity to get hold of Billywigs before. He couldn’t pass this up.

Mundungus held the jar up to the street lamp to examine the contents. Sure enough, roughly ten, bright blue, spinning insects flitted around the jar so quickly that it was hard to count them. Only when one came to light on the bottom of the jar, could he see the wings on the top of its body and the long stinger tail.

Mundungus smiled. Yep, his fellow students would pay nicely for Billywig stings.

He slipped the jar into the inside pocket of his overcoat and went to meet the Knight Bus, whistling happily.

He climbed aboard and started to make his way to the back of the crowded bus. As it lurched forward with a bang, Mundungus, still focused on the profit he would make off of the Billywigs, lost his balance and fell heavily to the floor. He felt something pierce his backside.

"Ah, blimey!"

For a brief moment, he was aware that his profit was about to get away, but in the next instant, he couldn’t care less. He started to laugh giddily. His fellow riders gasped as he floated to the ceiling. What a wonderful feeling! It was even more fun when a couple of other passengers drifted out of their own seats and joined him in the air.

It would be two days before Mundungus came back down to earth, literally. But until then, he didn’t care that he’d lost his ten galleons, been placed on probation for unlicensed possession of Billywigs, and confined to his room for the remainder of the holiday. Of course, that would all change when the Billywig stings wore off.

The house was in disarray. Chairs lay overturned, several pieces of broken crockery littered the carpet, and there was not a single cushion left on the sofa. There were several soft scratching noises before a loud ‘ping’.

Two harried looking witches came barreling into the sitting room. The taller, much younger witch was stammering apologies as she ran, tripping slightly on a pile of silver forks. The older witch stopped long enough to pull out her wand before scurrying after her daughter.

“I can’t believe you fell for that sob story,” she chastised as she chased the small furry creature through the sitting room and into the kitchen.

“I thought it needed a good home,” the daughter cried petulantly.

“We had a good home,” her mother replied sarcastically. “Look at it now.”

The kitchen was decimated. Every drawer hung open, each knob chewed to shreds. The cabinets hung on their hinges, a single pin away from crashing to the floor.

“Did you get the Muggle contraption?” the mother called out anxiously.

“I have it,” the daughter sniffed, “but it’s my best watch, Mum. Do I have to use it as bait?”

“Yes. You let the Niffler in, you need to get it out.”

The young witch held out her arm, tears shining brightly in her scared eyes. Within seconds, the Niffler appeared out of nowhere and hurled itself at her arm. Just as it began to bite down on the watch band, her mother stunned the Niffler.

“Now,” she began sternly, “you take that right back to where you got it, Hannah Abbott. Don’t be bringing home any more stray creatures. I let you keep the Kneazle, and the Pygmy Puff. I didn’t complain when you brought home the rat and that horrible toad, but no more. If you bring home one more stray, I’ll make you get rid of them all.”

__________________________________________________ ____________________________
Author Name: Schmerg_The_Impaler
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Injury
Word count: 286
The young woman lay on her hospital bed, her long blonde hair spilling out behind her, eyes closed. She looked like a porcelain doll, lying asleep like this, the starkly white sheets enveloping her. The Healer smiled as he walked past-- he was glad to hear the steady rhythms of her breathing, knowing that she would pull through, that she was almost completely cured.
It was her fifth day in the hospital, and she had been a mess when she had arrived. Her arms were both broken, the bone splintering through the skin, the lower part of her rib cage was shattered, her pancreas and spleen had ruptured, and both ankles were badly sprained. She had had a massive wound in her stomach, a wound that looked as though she had been impaled upon an enormous stick like a cocktail shrimp. But the girl was fine now, and would soon be discharged.
A young man, about the same age, burst into the ward and rushed over to her bed. “Is she all right?” he asked the healer, his eyes frantic. “I just returned from holiday and found a letter telling me that she was injured.”
The Healer nodded. “Yes, she should be going home soon, tomorrow at the latest.”
The young man sighed with relief and reached out for the sleeping girl’s hand. She gave it a squeeze, and her eyelids fluttered open.
“Hello!” she greeted him happily, her voice weak but jubilant. Her pale eyes danced with excitement, and she smiled at the young man.
“Why are you so happy?” he asked, almost amused. “You were almost mortally wounded!”
The girl laughed. “You don’t understand!” she exclaimed happily. “Neville, I was gored by a crumple-horned Snorkack!”

Norman and Sonia wandered closely to their house, their parents lounging lazily in the kitchen. Each child had a woven basket, filled partially with plastic decorated eggs.

Sonia clutched her light pink basket in her tight grasp as she searching the ground and trees for the eggs their parents had hidden for Easter. When her blue ribbon fell from one of her pigtails, she bent over to pick it up, beckoning her twin to stay close. When Sonia had retrieved the ribbon, she caught sight of several brightly colored eggs only a few lengths up in the tree.

The young girl squealed in excitement, which attracted Norman’s attention who was currently investigating a suspicious looking bush.

“Sonia?”

“Come see! Come see!” she cried in utter excitement.

As Norman wandered over to her side, a large orange and pink feathered bird landing on one of the branches. This provoked several ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ from the duo.

To the children’s voices the bird began producing an attractive lament, which convinced the children to linger underneath the tree’s branches.

Soon after though, both Sonia and Norman began feeling paranoid and pushy with each other. Each mumbling their own words in gibberish to themselves.

As the sun slowly began to set, their parents finally found them both staring out into the sky. They scooped Norman and Sonia into their arms and made off for the main road, where they would silently planned to apparate to St. Mungos.

Of course they had heard of the migrations of the Fwooper birds, but like so many others had thought nothing of it. Who knew one might preside in their own backyards?

A large figure moved down the stairs with great caution. He was very worried that someone would soon find out, as the creature was growing at such a rapid rate, and was clearly to large for its cage. As he moved along, the light of the moon streamed through the windows, and danced merrily as it passed the trees.

“On’y a bit further, I ‘ope no one’s foun’ ‘im yet…” he muttered quietly, slapping his hand over his mouth when he realized that he had said it aloud. After he shook himself to calm his nerves, he moved on. When he reached a dark, dusty door, he pulled out his wand and muttered, “Alohomora” as clearly as he could. He heard the lock click, carefully placed his large hand on the door, and very slowly pushed it open.

He jumped back with surprise as the door creaked loudly, before hastily throwing himself against the wall in case someone heard. He looked around for a moment before lightly walking back to the door and pushing it open completely.

There was a dark cabinet on the far side of the room. The moonlight was cutting across it fiercely, giving it and eerie appearance. He quickly moved over to it with surprising swiftness and threw the door open and looked in. Eight eyes stared back at him.

“Hagrid!” The Acromantula cried with concern as he scurried back into his cabinet.

“Wha--”

“I knew it was you!” Hagrid jumped with surprise and spun around so fast he almost toppled over. “So fascinated with deadly creatures all along! How could you do this to the school, Hagrid? It killed a girl,” a handsome boy said as he drew his wand and pointed it directly at Hagrid.